Nova
by Lady Jade Scribbler
Summary: Rosalind Potter, called Rose, Nova, or Flare by her friends, has been living at the X-Mansion since her seventh birthday. Though she knows of her magical abilities, she has no desire to entangle herself in wizard affairs. But can she stay out of it for long? Who knows, maybe her mutant abilities are the power the dark lord knows not. Watch out, Wizards! Female Harry, duh!


A/N:

Hello, everyone. I know this sounds like such a platitude by now but I'm really sorry for not updating in _ages._ College is hell. Plus, my first niece was born in November and, As I'm an aunt for the first time, I've been spending a lot of time with her.

Anyway, I'm doing a lot of revising of my earlier stories and hope to at least have a better version of The Outcasts Who Lived up by mid February. As for everything else, I'm trying to get new chapters done. But I've had so many ideas running through my head it's been almost impossible.

This is another new idea of mine which I couldn't help but write up. It's a Harry Potter/X-Men Evolution crossover. I chose the Evolution universe as I'm most familiar with it. I've watched all of season one and most of season 2 so far. I'm posting this first chapter to see just how receptive you guys are to it.

I've really tried hard to make my protagonist out to be a normal teenage girl with strengths and weaknesses. She isn't, by any means, all powerful. Also, her magic is only slightly above average, that's it. I'm not going to give her a bunch of insanely unnecessary magical or mutant-based gifts.

Oh, and people, I'm sorry if I misspell any X-Men based terms or names; I'm trying my best not to make any stupid mistakes. But if I do, I'd appreciate if you'd kindly point them out. Oh, and there won't be any major bashing in this story except for what villains usually get. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. I now present to you Nova, my work in progress.

Nova

Chapter One: Introduction

It wasn't often dull, living with other mutants in Professor Xavier's New York Mansion. In the institute, Rosalind Potter had found the sense of family she had craved as a little girl. The professor, Storm, and Wolverine had found her and saved her from a life of loneliness and abuse when her mutant powers literally began exploding things not a day after she turned seven. For the first time in her life, she felt safe and cared for, like she could finally come out of her shell.

Now, seven years later, she could hardly be recognized as the same girl she had been before. She was upbeat and energetic with a mischievous side, her pranking prowess mostly used on those who deserved it. Also, she had an easily triggered temper which didn't fizzle out as quickly as the explosions she caused. The older X-Men discovered scant months after they took custody of her that Rose, as her name was shortened to, was downright unmanageable on a sugar rush and tended to fly around, literally. Also, thanks to Storm being a witch, the young mutant found out about the other side of her powers that had nothing to do with the X-gene. Finally, she understood herself more and learned why her parents _really_ died.

Once her magic was discovered, they were able to sort out what of her powers were mutant abilities. She had burgeoning telepathic abilities which she had trouble controlling at first. They weren't her most powerful ability but they would grow to be formidable in time. The most honed aspect of this particular power was her ability to sense the emotions linked to what one is thinking. This was something she could always do, as far back as she could remember. As far as she and the professor could tell, a fraction of her mutant abilities had always been available to her since birth. But she hadn't put out enough power when using them until her primary powers started getting out of control so cerebro couldn't get a lock on her.

Living with the Dursleys, Rose learned when they would tend to be more lenient or when it was a good idea to be as meek and small as possible. Growing up in such an environment was most probably how Rose had managed to hone and utilize the empathic aspect of her telepathic powers rather than the full mind reading itself. Now, doing a surface scan of someone's emotions was second-nature to her and she sometimes had trouble _not_ scanning anyone she came in contact with. If she focused on someone nearby, she could pretty easily do an in-depth scan.

The mind-reading aspect of her telepathy, however, was harder for her to control. Scanning past surface thoughts was nearly impossible for her unless she had direct eye contact and the person she was trying to read had little to no mental shielding. She could pick up surface thoughts easily enough, though, and often tuned in without meaning to. She also had some telekinetic affinity which was augmented by her magic.

Professor Xavier speculated that her telepathy had the potential to grow stronger. Not as strong as his or Jean Grey's, mind, but strong enough for her to better control it. Rose had the potential to be categorized as an alpha-class mutant at least. But she still didn't have the complete control necessary for her to be classified as such. As it was, she could be considered as a high beta-class. With her primary mutation, she couldn't rightly be considered any less.

Rose's most powerful ability, her primary mutation, was labeled molecular manipulation. She could slow down the movement of molecules, thus literally freezing something. She could also break apart bonds which held items together, making them crumble apart or, as she grew older, disintegrate. However, she was most adept at speeding up molecules which caused explosions. Usually, Rose's explosions were accompanied by some sort of light show. What color fire and plasma things exploded in depended on her mood. But she vowed as a child to never use these particular abilities on a human unless absolutely necessary. It was her personality and ability for explosions that gave her the nickname "Nova" some months later. A few years after that, she was given the official codename Flare for the same reasons.

She loved living with Professor X, Storm, and the gruff Wolverine. However, she did admit to herself that it'd be nice to have another kid around she could relate to. To her surprise, barely a year after she arrived, the professor and Storm picked up another mutant who was two years older than her. He was a recent orphan and plane crash survivor named Scott Summers. He had blaster eyes which were basically impossible for him to control. Because of this, the professor had a pair of sunglasses with ruby quartz lenses made for him to keep in his blasts. Rose, as she was still called around the mansion then, and Scott got along rather well after awhile and they were able to relate. At first, Scott felt that the pesky girl with the minutely faded British accent couldn't, and didn't, understand what it was like to see one's parents die, to know one's brother had also become a casualty, to be an orphan. Sure, she would admit that she _didn't_ understand what it was like to lose a sibling of any sort. But she _did_ know what it was like to see her parents die. She had furiously yelled this point at him after he told her, for what seemed like the thousandth time, that she could never understand. After that hurtle was resolved, the two gradually became closer. The two were like siblings after awhile, an older, overprotective brother and his little, hyperactive but somewhat insecure sister. Scott was the one who called her Nova. She loved the name, though she tended to use it and her first nickname of Rose interchangeably if she went outside the mansion. Inside, however, she was called Flare just as often as she was called Nova or Rose.

Another year after Scott's arrival came the aforementioned Jean Grey, a telepathic and telekinetic mutant who was Scott's age. She and Scott didn't really get along at first, mainly due to the fact that Jean thought Scott was too stiff and Scott thought Jean was just another annoying girl. The two girls, however, got on famously. It was almost as though they were sisters or something - they even had the same eyes. The truth wasn't all that far from it. It turned out, much to Rose and Jean's shock, that their mothers were twins which made them cousins. They still wouldn't know if Jean's mother hadn't met Rose in person and commented how much she looked like her sister who she hadn't contacted in several years. The two hadn't grown up together as their parents had separated when they were little, one going to America and one staying in England. But they still loved one another very much. Mrs. Grey was quite upset when she heard that Lily had been dead for eight years without her knowing.

Jean, like Rose, was a witch whose power level was slightly lower than her cousin's. However, Jean's telekinesis and especially her telepathy were considerably more powerful than Rose's. The professor also felt that Jean had further potential that she couldn't tap into yet.

Not long after Jean was settled, the professor decided it was about time the three started interacting with other children their own age. He would have liked to keep them at the institute and have them taught there but that wouldn't work for two reasons. Reason one, the institute didn't have enough adults around to teach them. Reason two, Xavier hadn't been able to find any other mutants, especially ones so young as these three, that were willing to come to his school of sorts. As a result, the three were enrolled in Bayville's public school system. Being rather intelligent and not wanting to be alone in fourth grade at Bayville Elementary, Rose went all out on the entrance exams and was just able to squeak into the sixth grade with Jean and Scott at Bayville Middle. She got her fair share of teasing from some of the other kids for being an egghead, which wasn't helped along by her black, round-rimmed glasses and petite, delicate appearance. But she was happy nonetheless.

And now, five years after being placed in public school, Rosalind Potter found herself sitting to Jean's right in a loud stadium full of cheering American football fanatics at one of Bayville High's first home games of the season. She wasn't a big fan of the sport but came anyway because Jean was there, supporting her jock boyfriend. Scott was also there, sitting on Jean's other side. One of his friends, a blond guy whose name Rose had trouble remembering, was to his other side.

"Touchdown Bayville!" the announcer roared over the cheers of excitable teenagers and proud parents or guardians. Beaming, Jean rushed onto the field with her camera and snapped a few pictures of her touchdown-scoring boyfriend who was still lying on the turf. Exuberantly, she bounded up the bleachers and plopped down in her seat between Rose and Scott.

"I still don't understand why you're dating that jackass." she murmured to her older cousin. After seven years of living in the US, her British accent was less noticeable, partly overtaken by an American one. However, with Professor X in the house, her accent hadn't slipped nearly as much as it might have otherwise.

"He's not a jackass." Jean defended him.

"Sure he's not." Scott grinned. "But you could at least phrase it better couldn't you, Nova? You really don't need to be so crass."

"What fun is that?" the black-haired witch asked with a pout. Jean rolled her eyes. It still baffled her how well these two got along, even though they were like night and day for the most part. Sighing, she rifled in her bag for another roll of film before rushing off again.

"Oh man, my cash!" Scott exclaimed suddenly, bending down to pick up a quarter he had dropped while playing with it. Looking down, he saw the skulking figure of a pickpocket student. At that moment, he was snatching money off a guy in the row in front of Scott. Scott's eyes narrowed behind his shades at the sight. Rose squinted, peering through her glasses in the same direction Scott was looking, but she couldn't see clearly. As they were at the top of the bleachers, the floodlights didn't quite reach them. All she saw was the silhouette of a pudgy face and one thick arm poking up through one of the gaps in the bleachers, something clenched in the person's fist.

"Damn specs, can't see worth crap in the dark. Who is that and what's he doing?" she asked. It was times like these she wished Professor X would let her carry her night vision glasses on hand. They didn't even look that out of place except for the fact that they had red lenses but _noooo._ They'd bring up too many questions, he said, especially since they looked like a more feminine pair of Scott's everyday shades on the surface.

"Check it. Looks like someone's taking up a collection." he said by way of explanation. Rose nodded. Yet another pickpocket in Bayville High's student body.

"Should we call the cops?" Scott's blonde friend asked, breaking through Rose's thoughts.

"Keep that option open." Scott suggested, standing up. Having an idea of what he was doing, Rose stood up as well.

"What're you doing?" Scott asked her as they made their way down the bleacher steps.

"Backup, you noble prat. The guy might be slippery." she said by way of explanation. She didn't know why she said the last part but it was just her intuition. The two of them were entering the area underneath the bleachers where they had seen him last.

"Let's crush him, Dunc." the voice of one of Duncan Matthews's football-playing followers suggested. The malicious glee oozing from the thugs was palpable to Rose. She kept to the shadows, giving Scott an ace in the hole if the confrontation went to shit.

"Let's not, Dunc." Scott snapped as he made himself known. It didn't take her powers to figure out that Scott was furious at the situation. He hated thieves but felt he was siding with the lesser of two evils by siding with him rather than the football playing thugs who wanted to beat him up. "Just chill. The wallets are still there, let's just have him give back the cash. No harm done."

"Yeah, yeah, here's the money." said the teen. He was squat and dirty with sandy hair and muddy, greenish brown eyes. Rose could feel the nervousness rolling off him in waves. He held up a wad of bills.

"What do you care about this scuzzo, Summers?" Matthews demanded, annoyed. Rose scowled, how could her cousin date this jerk?

"Not much. But I'm not crazy about three against one, either." Scott defended. Rose grinned, she knew him well.

"I think me and my buds are gonna squash this slimeball so you and your stupid sunglasses at night can just bail." Duncan snarled. Rose rolled her eyes. She had the feeling that Duncan wouldn't have made it into his junior year, much less high school, if he hadn't bullied some poor, unsuspecting nerd into doing his homework. Rose should know, he tried that on her in sixth grade. Instead of allowing her powers to explode something, she took her fury out another way by slugging him in the nose. The professor and Storm weren't exactly pleased, though Logan shot her a grin when nobody was looking. Though Rose was quite clever and could be subtle when the situation called for it, she was more likely to go charging in to punch or blast first, ask questions later or never.

"Oh, very intelligently stated, Matthews. You and your stupid sunglasses at night can just bay-ayl! How old are you, seven?" Rose mocked, clapping her hands through the first sentence and stepping out of the shadows.

"Shut it, Pothead." Matthews snapped. Yup, the intelligence and subtlety of a seven-year-old.

"Oh, veeery clever. How many times have you called me that? Like a thousand? Come now, Dunc. I don't think Jeanie would appreciate you calling her favorite baby cousin that." she grinned wickedly.

"Shut your mouth before I do it for you, you scrawny, egg-head runt! We're going to pound this piss-ant and there's nothing you can do." with that said, Duncan threw the boy, Todd Tolensky if Rose wasn't mistaken, to the ground and stamped his foot in front of the prone teen, splattering him in the face with mud.

"Stop it!" both Rose and Scott said at the same time. Scott charged at Duncan with Rose right on his tail. Though both were smaller than him, he couldn't take them running into him full-force at the same time. Duncan fell back, his arms windmilling and catching his thuggish friends unawares. All three fell in a pile. Todd, seeing the distraction, started bounding away. After helping their leader up, the sidekicks ran after him. Now, it was just the three of them left.

"Big mistake." Duncan growled. He lunged for Scott and the two started to fight. Rose was treated like a nonentity by her cousin's boyfriend until she managed to stick her foot up, making him stumble. Now, she and Scott were tag-teaming. In close combat with non-mutants, scott was a more defensive fighter while Rose tended to go on the offensive, her slight and agile form allowing her to easily duck and dodge. Sometimes, though, she was able to get in a good hit on the blond brute. The two of them were doing fine. That is, of course, until Jean distracted them.

"Scott? Rose? _NO!"_ she shouted from the entrance to the bleachers' underside. The two looked over but that slight distraction was their downfall. He knocked scott into an outer support, picking Rose up by one of her pigtails and throwing her on top of him. Both Rose's glasses and Scott's protective shades came off in the collision. Before Scott could close his eyes, his eyebeams lanced out and tore up the ground under and around Duncan who flew off somewhere. Rose got onto her feet, her legs wobbly. Stumbling, she heard the distinct _crack_ of frames and lenses breaking. Her glasses! She cursed violently and clenched her fists. Part of the support a few feet away exploded in a plume of bright blue fire, adding to the blaze of scott's eyebeams. The fiery energy, a twisting menace of intermingling reds and blues, propelled itself outward, overtaking a propane tank which exploded spectacularly. Rose cursed again. She should have reigned in her temper; she knew well that her explosions and Scott's eyebeams did _NOT_ mix well. But she couldn't see hardly anything and that made her feel helpless; she _HATED_ feeling helpless.

Several minutes later, an ambulance had pulled up and a medic was checking on Duncan.

"Take it easy, son, try not to move." the medic ordered. Duncan moaned pitifully.

"What happened here?" a cop demanded.

"My head... can't remember..." Duncan said groggily.

"Concussion." the medic nodded. He turned to the cop, asking "What do you think happened here?"

"Hmmm. Well, it looks to me like..." he trailed off. From inside his car, the professor concentrated on the cop. The man shook his head and looked at the explosion before saying, "There must have been a leak in the propane tank."

Under the bleachers, Jean stood near the burning rubble.

"It's too hot to touch, at least with my hands." she said thoughtfully. Knowing her cousin wouldn't be in any state to help her, she used her telekinesis to lift the burning boards away herself. That done, she floated Scott's protective glasses to her. Scot sat on the ground, his eyes squeezed shut and knees to his chest. Rose was in a similar position except her eyes were open.

"Are you two okay?" she asked as she put Scott's glasses back on his face.

"Jean... oh man... I..." Scott trailed off as he opened his eyes. Rose stayed silent.

"Shhh, I know." Jean hushed him, her voice tinged with fond exasperation. "Where are your glasses, Nova? You've got to feel blind without them."

"They're totally trashed." the younger girl groaned, lifting up her foot to reveal a pile of mangled metal and plastic.

"They're not the only thing." Jean informed, pointing to the soul of her cousin's right shoe which was coming off in crumbling clumps of cloth and rubber.

"Oh bloody..." she trailed off at the look Jean sent her. Though she was a lot more relaxed than Scott, she still disapproved of Rose's mouth. "Those were my _favorite_ sneakers, Jean. You know that the stuff my powers get hold of can't be repaired."

"I do. Look, you'd better split, both of you. Scott, watch out for her. You know how her night vision is." Jean demanded, turning to her friend. Rose rolled her eyes as they stood up. Scott took her hand loosely and led her out of the area. Knowing they were safe, Jean rushed to the field to check on her boyfriend. Little did she know, Scott and Rose observed from a distance, though the latter did more hearing than watching.

"Duncan, are you all right?" she asked, bending down to be closer to him.

"Sure, Jean, you know me. Skull like concrete." Duncan grinned, tapping the side of his head with his left fist. "Ow!"

"Aw. You poor baby." Jean cooed. Rose rolled her eyes and Scott hunched his shoulders, looking unhappy. Tolensky approached then.

"Thanks Summers, Potter. I mean really, y'know?"

"Sure." Scott sighed.

"Of course." Rose said in a monotone. Both of them turned and walked away.

"Give it up, Jean, it's hopeless." Scott shouted, pounding on a bathroom door. It was the next morning and they had to go off to school soon. Next to him, wearing her spare, though thankfully identical, pair of glasses, Rose rolled her eyes. Her cousin was _such_ a primper. Luckily, as the mansion was large, Rose could do her morning business elsewhere. About all she did was shower, dress, and try to turn her unruly raven curls into something manageable. She usually wore them in either a pony tail, regular or French braid, or regular or braided pigtails. Today, it was French braided pigtails.

"Just a second." Jean called through the door.

"Hurry up already! We're going to be late." Rose said impatiently.

"I'm almost done." Jean huffed.

"Do you want me to blow this door..." Scott trailed off as Jean opened it. She shot him a look.

"...down?" Scott finished his sentence belatedly.

"So, are we going or what?" Jean asked, grinning. Jean touched Scott's chin as she passed him, he smiled. Rose grinned a secret grin. Those two were _so_ blind to each other. Their dancing around each other _would_ be amusing if it weren't so bloody frustrating.

"We're heading out, professor." Scott called as they walked down the main ground-floor corridor.

"Just a minute, you three. There's someone I'd like you to meet." the professor called from his office. The three entered to see the professor, Storm, and an unknown person in a hooded robe.

"This is Kurt Wagner. He arrived on the train late last night." Professor X introduced.

"Hey, Kurt. This is Jean and her cousin, Rosalind. I'm Scott. How ya doing?" asked Scott, holding out his hand. Kurt looked at it for a second before backing up towards the professor. It didn't take empathy to tell that he was scared, verging on terrified. However, since Rose was an empath, she felt it more tangibly. So she decided she'd do her best to make him comfortable.

"It's all right, Kurt, you're among friends here." the man encouraged. Kurt stepped forward and took Scott's hand in a brief shake.

"Hello." he said shyly, voice sounding with a foreign accent. Scott looked down at Kurt's hand and raised an eyebrow. He quickly withdrew it.

"Come on, Scott. No need to make him feel uncomfortable." Rose admonished, her voice full of energy. "Hi! I'm Rosalind Potter. You can call me Rose or Nova, though. Or Flare. That's my sort of codename, I guess. May I say that your fur is a very nice shade of royal blue?" Jean shook her head at her cousin's antics as the younger girl took Kurt's hand and shook it exuberantly. "And very soft, too. No worries about callouses, huh?"

"I... thank you." Kurt said uncertainly.

"I was just telling Kurt how I made this institute for gifted youngsters. Youngsters whose gifts aren't always an asset. Right, Scott? Rosalind?" said the professor, his irritation evident.

"So... erm... you heard about last night, huh?" Rose asked sheepishly, a blush blossoming on her cheeks.

"Hard not too. It _was_ on all the news channels, after all. Fortunately, no one was badly hurt and the true cause, or should I say causes, of last night's incident were not discovered. But you really must be more careful."

"Come on, professor! I'm packing a bazooka behind each eyeball. What do you want from me?" Scott snapped indignantly.

"Jean's jerk of a boyfriend knocked my glasses off and I lost my temper. I hate feeling helpless and my night vision is rubbish. You know that my explosions and his eyebeams do _not_ go together." Rose said defensively as he finished.

"All I want is control, Scott. And your temper is _exactly_ the reason why I gave you those mental exercises in order to control it, Rosalind. You're both here to learn the ins and outs of your powers, that's why we're _all_ here." Professor Xavier said, his voice strong and rebuking, though his eyes and emotions showed compassion. He turned his chair towards Kurt.

"Scott's eyes emit a destructive blast beam and Flare is capable of molecular manipulation."

"You forgot to mention I'm the institute's unofficial explosives expert." Rose grinned wickedly. It was no secret that, at the end of the day, one of Flare's greatest mutant-based joys was blowing stuff up in the danger room. Said joy was only followed closely by freezing and disintegrating things. She had other joys which she could be quite passionate about but they were much more mundane. Scott shook his head, Jean grinned and rolled her eyes, and the professor allowed himself a fond smile.

"Cool." Kurt breathed, lowering his hood to reveal golden eyes, pointed ears, and a fuzzy blue face. Rose grinned at him. Even though he was all blue and furry, she couldn't help but think that this Kurt was kind of cute in an exotic sort of way.

"What about you, Kurt? Any special gifts of your own?" Jean asked, speaking for the first time that day.

"Maybe." he nodded before disappearing in a puff of black smoke and reappearing on the other side of the room.

"Oh, nice form. A definite ten." Rose enthused. She wanted him to feel welcome here and if that meant being a bit of a goofball, well, it was worth it. Kurt stayed silent, unsure of what to say. He was surprised by the easy, casual acceptance he had been greeted with by the entire group, especially this Rose girl. She looked like she could be a good friend to him. The very thought gave Kurt a good feeling inside. Jean and Scott simply grinned in the face of Rose's enthusiasm. This sort of behavior wasn't too abnormal for her. She could be very serious and almost scary in her intensity when she wanted to be. She would never forget her past either. But her exuberance and boundless energy was her way of getting past that and seizing life with both hands.

"I'll show Kurt around while you three are at school." Professor x said, cutting through the silence. The three teens nodded and left shortly afterwards. Going to the garage, they headed over to Scott's car.

"You sure I can't drive it, Scott?" Rose asked, her eyes immediately zooming in on the front seat of his red and white convertible.

"Ha! You wish, squirt." he grinned, shaking his head.

"Awwe, c'mon." she begged.

"You're still too young, Flare." Jean tried to reason.

"Humph! I'm too young to drive a _tiny_ little convertible and yet I've been licensed for the Blackbird since last Christmas." Rose grumbled, climbing into the back seat. "Just you two wait! The day I turn fifteen, I'll be the first in line at the DMV for my learner's."

"We know, we know." Jean grinned as they pulled out.

"You've only been telling us that since you turned thirteen." Scott teased lightly. Rose shot a mock wounded look at the two in the front seat. But Scott _did_ have a point. Rose had developed a special interest in transportation, particularly plains and cars. She joked that she wasn't sure what she wanted for her sixteenth birthday: a Mustang GT, a motorcycle, a two-seater jump jet, or her own Blackbird. This was one of her more mundane joys mentioned earlier, though her proclivity for destruction eclipsed it by just a fraction. Rose was a lover of anything technical. The way certain types of transport worked was a small part of that. Her greatest mundane passion was computers. This passion was followed closely by pranking the deserving, like Duncan Matthews. She loved fiddling with electronic gadgetry and sometimes amused herself by hacking into databases if she was banned from the danger room for being too destructive. Her love for creating new things and putting widgets together to make something new was only marginally less potent than her love for blowing things up. Sometimes, she would bring her technical knowledge into her pranks. One of her fondest memories was a year ago when she'd managed to open up a back door to Duncan Matthew's computer hard-drive and insert a full-screen, black and orange image with the words "YOU HAVE SEVEN DAYS LEFT" in the middle. Matthews had been twitchy and jumpy for the entire week of midterms. Unfortunately, though, the professor had found out and she was grounded for a week.

A scant ten minutes later, as the trio entered the school, they were halted by the presence of Bayville High's principal, Ms. Darkholm. Rose shifted uneasily; she'd spent more time in the principal's office than she'd like, though Ms. Darkholm was somewhat of a new entity. She had only been hired on in September. What Rose did notice about the woman, however, was that she seemed especially interested in her for some unknown reason.

"_Is this about the tapioca pudding I stuffed in Matthew's locker yesterday?"_ she wondered to herself. Jean stifled a gasp.

"_You did WHAT!"_ her cousin's angry voice broadcast itself telepathically. Though Rose wasn't near as strong a telepath as Jean or the professor, she could still quite easily pick up a broadcast like that. Rose grinned sheepishly.

"Well, you two, guess I'll see you in class. You know how it goes, things to do, principals to see, and all such rot as that." the words tumbled from Rose's lips in a rapid cascade. But Jean and Scott seemed to have heard her. So too, unfortunately, did Ms. Darkholm who cleared her throat ominously.

"Ahem... not that you're rotten or anything... Principal Darkholm... that was just a Britishism." she coughed awkwardly. Deciding to do the smart thing, Rose stepped up beside the imposing woman and allowed herself to be led to the office. Sitting in a chair outside it was Todd Tolensky who was scuffing his sneakers on the linoleum in a bored fashion.

"I shall be with you momentarily, Mr. Tolensky." the dark-haired woman said stiffly before entering the room, Rose behind her. Principal Darkholm settled herself behind her desk and Rose perched on a chair across from her, idly swinging her legs.

"What is it I'm here for, Principal Darkholm?" she asked warily. The principal smiled thinly at her.

"Not for the usual, I assure you." she said smoothly, eyeing a bulging folder which sat on her otherwise neat and well-organized desk. "I simply had the desire to check up on you. It can't be easy being a girl of fourteen in class with students two years older than you."

"I manage." Rose shrugged.

"Still, you're clearly an intelligent sort. Are you not, Miss Potter?" the principal questioned.

"I suppose." Rose said noncommittally. "But I skipped grades mainly for Jean and Scott."

"Ah, yes. Mr. Summers and Miss Grey. Miss Grey happens to be your cousin, am I right?" Ms. Darkholm questioned.

"Yes. What's your point?" Rose asked warily.

"Only clarification, I assure you. It can't be easy, being you. A foreign-born orphan living on distant shores. Almost no family to speak of. How are you handling this? Do your current guardians treat you well?" Principal Darkholm's voice became smooth and silky, a tone overlaying it that almost sounded concerned. But Rose could sense the difference between sincerity and falseness, and Ms. Darkholm's tone was false to her emotions. Feeling that it was a good idea to keep her empathic senses open, she was able to get a good reading of what emotions were going through the principal. What the young teen felt was an eager interest that was downright creepy in its intensity.

"Quite well." she nodded after a second's pause, just long enough to do her scan. "But why are you asking me this now? Why did you pull me in here?"

"As I said earlier, I simply wanted to check up on you. After all, you are a _special_ case." Principal Darkholm said cooly. Rose suppressed a shiver at the particular intonation the principal put on the word "special". Did she know about Rose's magic? Did she know what Rose meant to the wizarding world? Was she magical? Or could it be about her mutant powers? Could Principal Darkholm suspect the true reason Professor Xavier and the others took in she and the others? Could the principal be a mutant herself? Gathering her thoughts, Rose responded to the principal's assurances.

"Why not check up on anyone else then? You know that Scott's an orphan, too. And I'm sure there's more orphans or foster kids in Bayville than just us." she reasoned. Looking at the girl across from her, Mystique hid a frown at the shrewd emerald gaze being aimed at her from behind dark silver, oval-lens, wire-framed glasses. Despite her overenthusiastic and mischievous personality, it was clearly obvious to her now that this girl was no idiot and that she hadn't managed to skip two years ahead in school and stay there just on luck. It was clearly a mistake to bring her in like this. Her master would _not_ be pleased.

"You may go. Tell Mr. Tolensky that he may enter." she said after a moment, giving no answer.

"Don't I get a note? I _am_ late for class, after all." Rose reminded the woman.

"Oh, yes of course." peeling off a sticky note, the principal jotted down a late pass in sharp, slightly slanted letters. Rose took it and, frowning contemplatively, left the office behind her. Ms. Darkholm was up to something and she was going to find out what.

"Darkholm demands your presence." Rose said a touch snarkily as she shut the door.

"Yeah, all right. Thanks." the boy said, standing and squeezing past her. Turning her head away, Rose wrinkled her nose at his scent. It was obvious that he hadn't bathed in... well... perhaps _ever._ The door snapped closed behind her, bringing her out of her musings. Rose had a feeling that the conversation about to start in the office behind her was going to be important. This in mind, she leaned next to the door, ears open. She already had a late pass; a few more minutes couldn't hurt.

"Ugh, excuse me while I open a window." Principal Darkholm's voice floated through the cracks, tinged with disgust. Rose couldn't help but think that the principal's jibe at Todd's stench, however foul, was kind of unprofessional. But who was she to judge? She _was_ just fourteen, after all.

A/N: Next up, the rest of Episode 1. Hope you all like!


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